


Another Time and Place

by SamSnak



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 18:11:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamSnak/pseuds/SamSnak
Summary: Wonderful Art (Chapter 7) and lovely banner by Potionsmaster!Kaidan spirals after Shepard dies. This story follows him during the two years between ME1 and ME2. Each chapter alternates between past and present. Cannon compliant, and ends on a happy note.Potionsmaster's blog: https://nightmarestudio606.tumblr.com/post/186225686245/big-bang-part-twoooo





	1. Chapter 1

#### 

#### Present Day, Shepard’s Memorial Service

Shepard’s memorial service is small. Apparently stubbornly holding everyone at arm’s length your entire life doesn’t make for a huge funeral turnout. Anderson and Udina are there, and they both say a few words. Anderson is short, sincere, and claps a sympathetic hand on his shoulder when he sees him, “I’m sorry, Son. I know you two were close.”

Udina gives a full speech, telling stories about Shepard like they were old friends. Kaidan would punch him if he had the energy.

There’s a real sense of existential horror evoked by the thought of 30 years of life summarized in a ten-minute speech. He’s not sure if Shepard would have wanted any of this. The ceremony is nice, but the man always hated being the center of attention.

Joker’s there, sitting alone in a chair in the backrow. Shepard would want him to go talk to him and tell him how it wasn’t his fault. Shepard had always liked Joker, but Kaidan can’t bring himself to look at him. It _is_ his goddamn fault. Shepard is dead because he was too stubborn to abandon ship, and Kaidan doesn’t know if he can look at him, anymore. He certainly can’t go make nice with him.

In the middle of the room, there’s a picture of Shepard set up, surrounded by a few flowers. It’s a good picture of him--he was so handsome, every picture of him is a good one--but this one is particularly striking. It’s his professional headshot, so he’s not smiling. The color correction makes his bright blue eyes even more breathtaking. Kaidan resists the urge to trace his finger along the jawline.

There’s a short line of mourners gathering behind him, so he cuts it short. He could stand there looking at that picture for days, but he makes himself walk away. He stills himself with a deep breath and sits heavily in one of the many open chairs. Tali’s weeping quietly in the seat behind him. For an instant, he’s irritated, indignant at the thought that someone might miss Shepard as much as he does. _He was mine._ It’s a petulant, immature thought, and he squashes the impulse. He feels guilty for even thinking it.

There’s another thought, spiteful and selfish, about how the world won’t know how much they loved each other. _No one will know that he was mine._ He’ll never say anything, of course. The idea of Shepard getting in trouble posthumously for sleeping with a subordinate is horrifying.

Shepard had once mentioned marriage, half-joking and half-serious, and Kaidan had been fixated on the idea ever since. Now they’ll never get that wedding on the Citadel. He’ll never see him in that tuxedo. He doesn’t even get to see Shepard in a suit at his service, because they still haven’t found his body.

That thought does make the tears start, his eyes burning and throat closing, as he tries not to think about the future he lost. Tries to forget the sound of the rising panic and _fear_ in Shepard’s voice over the comms as his suit lost pressure. Tries not to think about his corpse, floating and alone, in the cold expanse of space.

He hears a choked sob. It’s a pathetic, wounded sound. Hot tears flow unbidden against his face as he realizes it was his own. There’s a hand on his shoulder, claws resting on top of his BDU. Garrus gives him a long, sad look.

Wrex stomps over to the two of them and hands him that picture of Shepard that he’d been eyeing. It's almost certainly not something he's supposed to have, but he can't imagine it would be doing much more than collecting dust in storage somewhere. It doesn’t seem like Udina is willing to challenge Wrex for it, either way. He chokes out a thanks, but its heavy and raw with the tears he's trying to stem the flow of.

Wrex pats his back a little too hard, “He was a real hardass, but he had a soft spot for you. He’d want you to be okay, Alenko,” Kaidan nods, but he’s not okay. He’s not sure he’ll be okay, ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

#### Before Death, Meeting

The first time he saw Shepard that day, he was scowling. The Commander been in a foul mood since talking to the Council, who rejected his claims at every turn. He’d just finished yelling at someone—Kaidan couldn’t remember the kid’s name. He had COs like that before. Ones who yelled and demeaned instead of leading. He never had much respect for them. He heard the stories about Shepard, too. _The Butcher of Torfan._ How he’d sacrificed so many good men and women, throwing their lives away against an entrenched enemy.

The Commander skulked by him. Kaidan saluted, but the man ignored him. No matter. Kaidan didn’t have to like him. He’d keep his head down and do his job, just like he’d been doing for years. At that point in his life, he specialized in not being noticed.

Being left alone was exactly what Kaidan wanted, anyway. His head was hurting so badly that it felt like his brain was trying to make its way out of his skull. Nausea was starting to claw its way up his belly, and even the dim lighting of the _Normandy’s_ shuttle bay was overwhelming.

He was trying his damnedest to focus on the gun he had laid out before him. He initially started the project to get his mind off of the throbbing in his head, but now he regretted it. His pistol was taken apart into a dozen or so pieces, and his pain-addled brain couldn’t work out how to reassemble it.

“Shit,” he muttered as he fumbled the small part he’d been holding. It fell to the floor and bounced once, before rolling and coming to a stop in front of a pair of combat boots.

The man stooped down and picked up the piece, handing it to him, “You’re looking a little green, Alenko” Shepard’s voice startled him. He’s not willing to admit that he visibly jumped. His hands were clammy and he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead. If he looked half as bad as he felt, Shepard might be considering taking him outside and shooting him. It would have been a small mercy, at that point.

“Go lie down in the med bay,” Shepard’s hands were warm against his as Kaidan took the piece from him. He silently prayed that the other man couldn’t feel the sweat pouring off him.

Kaidan shook his head, but immediately regretted it. The motion aggravated the pressure building behind his eyes, “I’m alright, Sir,”

“That wasn’t a request, Lieutenant. Go see Dr. Chakwas,” Shepard inclined his head towards the elevator.

Kaidan was still afraid enough of him to think that arguing was a bad idea, “Yes, Sir. Thank you,” he trudged towards the elevator. This was something he always dreaded on every new posting. Once a CO saw his medical records and found out that he was an L2, they invariably thought one of two things: that he needed to be coddled, because his brain was prone to explode at any given time, or that he was a whiner. He hated them thinking the latter the worst.

Dr. Chakwas was a good physician. He was never big on doctors: too much poking and prodding at Brain Camp, but she wasn’t so bad, and the migraine cocktail she offered him was even better. The Medbay was dark, and it seemed like the constant roar of the ship was quieter, here. The nausea was starting to fade along with the throbbing in his head. The antihistamine in those migraine mixtures always made him sleepy, anyway, so he quickly found himself dozing in the peace of the small room.

What felt like an instant later, he awoke. The lights that had seemed so dim before seemed harsher and less forgiving, and he felt a deep sense of guilt for sleeping during his duty hours. He was determined to make up for it, so he sat up cautiously, still worried about disturbing his volatile head.

The mess hall was empty when he left the Medbay. He looked at his watch. _0000 hours._ He had slept right through dinner and the end of his shift. A pang of hunger joined the guilt in his stomach, and he scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d offer Commander Shepard to make up the lost hours, he promised himself.

Later, of course, because the man was almost certainly asleep by now. Instead, he made his way down the elevator towards the weapons benches. He could at least finish cleaning the pistol he’d abandoned earlier. He just hoped all the pieces were still there. Wrex had a tendency to scatter any nearby parts when he worked on his own shotgun, and explaining to his Commander that he needed to buy himself a new pistol because he lost some parts wasn’t high on the list of things that he wanted to do.

Fortunately, the armory was empty. He was still sleepy from his medication, and awkward conversation with a 2000-pound Krogan wasn’t something he particularly loved on a good day. He could reassemble his gun, stow it away, and get to bed before anyone saw him.

He walked towards the weapon bench. It was empty. His pistol was gone.

_Shit._

Maybe Wrex had gotten a little overzealous and the whole thing had wound up on the floor? He got on his hands and knees to check underneath. The floor was spotless--Ashley was nothing if not thorough in her duties--and no gun in sight.

A voice behind him startled him and he stood, just barely managing to avoid hitting his head on the bench on his way up.

“Lieutenant. Looking for something?”

Kaidan scrambled to his feet, trying to dust his knees off inconspicuously as he did, “Hey, Commander. Just, uh—dropped something.”

“Hmm,” He nodded, “How are you feeling?”

“Better, Commander,” he said carefully, “Thank you for asking.”

Shepard nodded, his face blank, “You look better,” he crossed his arms over his chest and looked even bigger than normal.

Kaidan tried not to stare at the thick muscles that covered his forearms, “You don’t have to worry about me, Sir. The headaches won’t be a problem,”

“It’s fine if you need time. You have an impressive service record. I know you’re not a whiner.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Kaidan shifted uncomfortably on his feet and looked away. This was usually when his Commanders decided whether or not he was a fragile wimp. At least Commander Shepard seemed to be settling on “not.”

“Your pistol’s in your locker,” Shepard said.

“Oh,” he was silent a split second before it clicked, “Thanks for putting it back together.”

Shepard just nodded and stood there, looking at his feet. “I’m—” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks,” Kaidan nodded slowly. “So…what are you doing up?”

He shrugged, “I have a hard time sleeping sometimes. I like to come down here and work on my guns.”

Kaidan knew he should go to bed. It would be the responsible thing to do, but, “You want help?”

Shepard raised his eyebrows just for a moment, before rearranging his expression to one that was more neutral, “That’d be…good. Yeah.”

Kaidan nodded, “What were you going to work on?”

Shepard reached to a shelf over the two of them, “I picked this up at the Citadel the last time we were there,” his forearms rippled as he reached. Kaidan snuck a peak at his ass, then chided himself. Midnight rolled around and suddenly he was a randy teenager again.

Shepard placed a rifle gently onto the workbench, “I wanted to swap the rail out for one that dissipates heat faster,” he dug in the toolbox and pulled out a screwdriver, “This one’s supposed to allow for more shots before it overheats,” he continues.

“I always preferred pistols, myself,” Kaidan turned and leaned back against the bench, “Never liked the kickback of a rifle.”

“Sure,” Shepard dug the screwdriver into the side of the gun, “Pistols are versatile, too. Good for close range.” the side of his mouth upturned slightly, “I guess when you’ve got biotics like yours, you can be choosy with your guns.”

That wasn’t flirting, he told himself. It was midnight, and he was drunk on migraine meds, and he was projecting his own attraction onto the other man, but his Commander wasn’t flirting with him.

“I guess so,” Kaidan chuckled.

The two of them fell silent, Shepard’s eyes still locked on the task at hand and Kaidan shifting uncomfortably on his feet, trying to think of something to say.

“Can I help with anything?” He finally said.

“No, thanks. I’ve got it,” His long fingers twisted the screwdriver, and he pulled out the tiny screws, dropping them into a neat pile, “I appreciate the company. I’m normally here by myself this late.”

“No problem,” Kaidan said, “I wasn’t really tired, anyway,” he scratched the back of his neck,” I’ll make up for those lost hours next shift, Commander.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shepard shook his head, “You didn’t miss anything,” he’d gotten the old rail off, but the new one wouldn’t slide in place. He nodded towards the shelf above them, “Hand me that grease.”

Kaidan handed it to him, and he certainly didn’t entertain thoughts about any secondary uses of grease. Once Shepard had lubricated it, the new railing slid right on. Kaidan watched his nimble fingers again as they manipulated the small screws back into place.

“There,” he said, satisfied. He proudly held up the gun, pointing the barrel towards the floor, “Can’t wait to try this out.”

“Unfortunately, I’m sure you’ll get a chance to soon,” Kaidan said, standing up from where he’d been leaning. He swallowed a yawn. He was still sleepy. Migraine cocktails always left him with a hangover, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his CO.

Shepard noticed, anyway, “Go sleep, Alenko. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he walked over to his own locker, keying in the code and stowing his gun.

“Yes, Sir,” but he lingered by the bench.

“Thanks for the company,” Shepard offered him a handshake.

His hand was so warm. Kaidan could feel the callouses on the palm, over the index finger where a trigger rubbed. It wasn’t soft or smooth, but it was a good, strong feeling beneath his touch. Solid. Powerful hands that had taken lives and saved them.

He let his hand linger longer than he should have. Shepard cleared his throat and pulled away. When Kaidan looked up at him, he swore he could see a slight flush to his features.

“I should go. Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

Kaidan didn’t sigh. Not out loud, at least, “Goodnight, Sir.”


	3. Chapter 3

#### Present Day, Going Home

If he closes his eyes and buries his nose deep in the fabric, he swears he can still smell a hint of Shepard on his jacket. The Alliance had been able to recover some of the crew’s personal effects while they investigated the crash. They’d handed Kadain a box of his stuff and thanked him for his service.

He’s grateful for getting his things back. He didn’t mourn the loss of stuff, not when they haven’t even found his lover’s body yet, but it makes him smile when he opens the lid and finds the contents of his personal storage: his favorite book, pictures from his parents, a scarf his mom knitted him, and Shepard’s N7 jacket. The fabric is soft, and when he wears it he can almost imagine John wrapping him into a hug.

_“Hey, Shepard,” he sauntered into his cabin. Their relationship was an open secret to the rest of the crew. John never sucked his dick on the CIC, nothing like that, but they stopped hiding Kaidan’s trips in and out of the Captain’s cabin long ago. No one commented on the fact that Kaidan’s own bunk had gone unused for just as long._

_“Hey, yourself,” he said, smiling and looking up from the data pad he was reading at his desk. Kaidan walked up and kissed him. He’d intended it to be quick, a brushing of lips, but John’s strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him to straddle his lap._

_He smiled down at him once they came up for air, his hand still grasping Shepard’s N7 jacket, “Sorry to disturb you, Commander,” he said, teasing, wriggling his hips in his lap, “I just wanted to return this to you before I forgot,”_

_“You can disturb me whenever you like,” John nipped his neck, “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway,”_

_He laughed, “Are we really that domestic now? Wearing each other’s clothes?”_

_“Do you disagree?” His hands cupped Kaidan’s ass._

_“Not at all. I like it.”_

_“Me, too,” John stood and carried him to bed._

It’s a melodramatic thought, but this jacket is all he has left of Shepard. This, and his memories of their stolen time together. He has a few private pictures of him, of course, and the one Wrex commandeered for him, but the last time he tried to look at them he broke down sobbing for an hour.

He can’t do that now.

The Alliance had given him a few weeks off, bereavement leave and healing time for the crew who’d just lost their ship and their Commander as well as a few of their crewmates. Kaidan had booked a flight to come see his parents, unsure of what else to do.

He’s sitting on a shuttle, holding his precious bag of valuables close. Next to him, a young couple dozes, the man’s head resting on her shoulder. They’ll probably leave this flight and go on to live a long and happy life together, full of love and hopes and kids.

He hates himself for the pang of jealousy he feels.

Finally, the pilot announces that they’re approaching Vancouver. Kaidan can’t wait to stretch his legs. He’s looking forward to seeing the orchard again. It’s been a long time since the light of Sol has graced his skin; the fluorescent hum of Alliance ships is familiar, by now, but it can’t compare to the warmth of the star that humanity evolved under.

When he climbs out of the shuttle, his parents are there. His dad hugs him, “I’m glad your home,” he tells him.

Kaidan sees worry flash over his mom’s face when she takes him in. He realizes he probably does look rough around the edges. He hasn’t been sleeping well at all, and he hasn’t bothered to shave for a few days. Or eat.

He slings his duffle bag over his shoulder, and his mother puts an arm around him before the three of them walk towards the exit, “What do you want to have for dinner?”

On the opposite side of the room, the couple from before share a kiss before they leave.

\---

His parents are kind and patient with him. They’re sympathetic and unsurprised that he’s distraught after losing a CO and a ship, but they don’t realize how much he’s grieving. He’s able to hide the worst of it from them. He ends up excusing himself from dinner that night to compose himself in the bathroom, after his dad brought up that mess on the Citadel, and how proud he is that his son was there to help Commander Shepard save it.

He splashes water on his face and tries to calm down, but the man staring back at him in the mirror is haggard. His face is gaunt, his eyes are red-rimmed and blood shot, and he looks exhausted. He understands now why his mother was so upset when she saw him.

The first night he spends in his old bedroom, he sits up for an hour and ends up giving himself a migraine from crying so much. He spent that day on the edge of a knife, barely holding himself together in front of his parents.

There’s a chill in the air. It’s Vancouver in the winter months, but his bed feels colder now than he remembers it from his childhood. He always ran hot, a side effect of his damnable implants, but now he feels the need to scrounge in his closet for another blanket. The jacket hangs there, empty. He considers slipping it on and sleeping in it, but he’s worried that wearing it too much will erase any trace of Shepard that might still be there. Instead, he runs his hand down the sleeve and blinks back tears. He can’t remember a time in his life where he’d cried this much or so often, but he feels weak for it, pathetic, and mad at himself for being unable to control his emotions. He finds another blanket and stands there for a second. He ends up grabbing the jacket anyway, and crawls back into bed with it.

He wakes up early the next morning, before the blackness of the night has fully retreated. His father is still in bed, and his mother is alone in their kitchen, drinking her coffee. Kaidan wordlessly sits next to her, and she kisses his forehead before getting up to pour him a cup.

“Thanks, Mom,” he says.

She pats his hand, “How are you feeling?”

“Not good,” he sighs. He doesn’t really have the energy to lie.

“I’m sorry, Baby.” She sips her coffee, “You and I should go see the orchard today. The apples weren’t in season the last time you were here.” His mother doesn’t really get it. She doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a brother-in-arms.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he agrees. She gets up and starts to move around the kitchen. He wants to tell her. She deserves to know why her son is just a shell of who he was the last time she’d seen him.

They’re both quiet. Kaidan’s still for a long moment. His coffee has gone cold by the time he finally gets up the courage to say, “He wasn’t just my Commander. We--” he struggles to find the right words. How can he summarize the soul-crushing devotion he feels to that man? The willingness to follow him into hell?

“We loved each other,” he finishes lamely. His face feels hot, but it shouldn’t. He’s a grown man, now, and he’s comfortable with his sexuality. It’s a little bit of a double whammy for his mom, however. His “coming out” and a confession of love, all rolled into one.

She looks surprised, for just a moment, but puts an arm around him and hugs him tight.

\---

Over the next few days at his parents’ house, he becomes impatient to return to duty. So much free time lets him think too much. He wants to be on another ship, serving again. Sleeping is impossible, but maybe the physical exhaustion of a day on a ship will help him. He’s grown too accustomed to dozing off with part of Shepard’s heavy frame resting on him, and a bed just feels too empty.

He gets his new assignment a few days after arriving. He’s given the option of staying another week, taking more time off. He doesn’t care what the assignment is. As long as he’ll be busy, always doing something, helping someone, serving the Alliance, he’ll go anywhere they ask. Maybe it will give him something else to do and he’ll stop picturing those cold blue eyes so often.

If he’s lucky, he’ll catch a bullet soon and he can die a hero. Maybe he’ll see Shepard again.


	4. Chapter 4

#### Before Death, Kiss

The utility closet was cramped, but it served its purpose well enough. It was quiet and well out of the way, and nothing was stored in there that was commonly used, so no one even came to this part of the deck. Kaidan peered around the room, anyway, double checking, before quietly turning the handle and stepping inside.

He stood there waiting and feeling just a little bit dumb.

Shepard didn’t leave him hanging for long. As soon as the door was closed, he was on him, grabbing Kaidan tight and walking him backwards into the shelf behind him.

Shepard’s full lips were soft. It never failed to surprise him just how soft his lips are. Kaidan always expected his lips to be rough, just like the rest of him. He couldn’t help but imagine how those lips would feel wrapped around his cock. The man’s hands pressed into his back, pulling him closer, and Kaidan responded by sliding his own hands to the small of Shepard’s back, stopping just short from going too low.

The other man didn’t miss it. Shepard chuckled at his hesitation, humming a little and kneading his strong fingers into the muscles of his back.

Eventually, Shepard was the one to break the kiss. He stayed close, their lips still just centimeters apart. Kaidan just let himself get lost in his blue eyes, enjoying feeling safe for the moment. The small space was cold, and Kaidan could feel the gooseflesh rising on the other man’s arms in response.

“This is all I think about,” Shepard said, sighing. To say that he felt the same would be an understatement, so he just squeezed Shepard’s arms in response.

Shepard pulled away and leaned his forehead heavily against his shoulder. Kaidan chuckled. “Tired?” He asked.

“A little.” Shepard’s skin was warm even through the fabric of his uniform, and the rumble of his deep voice against his shoulder was nice.

“Hmm,” Kaidan started rubbing his back, “You should go to bed. I’m not going anywhere.”

Shepard pulled back, and his breath was hot against his ear when he asked, “Why don’t you come with me?”


	5. Chapter 5

#### Present Day, Old Stomping Ground

As soon as he climbs off the small shuttle he’d chartered, he immediately wants to climb back on. He’s overtaken by the smell of smog and pollution in the air. It’s hot. It’s an uncomfortable, wet heat that makes his skin sweat immediately and his shirt start to cling to him. As he walks further down the street, towards the room he’d rented, he also smells the distinctive odors of urine and cigarette smoke. Along the way he’s propositioned by no less than three separate people, and he’s politely declining the last offer as he opens the door into the motel.

The lights of the small room flicker when he flips the switch, trying to decide whether they want to serve their purpose. In here, the smell that had been dogging him since he stepped of the shuttle is a little more subdued, but still present. He dumps his bag in the corner of the small room, before thinking better of it and putting it on the nightstand. At least that way any critters who wanted to find their way inside would have to climb a little, first. He grabs his sidearm, checking it once, twice, and strapping it to his side. The dark black shirt he’s wearing is loose, and it hides the gun at his hip well.

The lock on the outside of the door seems suspiciously weak, but he hasn’t bought anything with him that he couldn’t stand to lose. Anything of value that he owns, sentimental or otherwise, is currently tucked safely away in a box at his parent’s house. Outside the motel, two drunk men are arguing, while a woman looks on in apparent complete disinterest. He gives the group a wide berth as he passes by, but the scent of liquor and vomit still wafts his way.

The address he was given is a short walk away, made even shorter by the clipped pace he keeps to avoid eye contact with as many people as possible. Fisk is leaning against the outside of the pub when he gets there. He’s trying to be intimidating, the gun at his side is large and clearly visible, and he’s got his arms crossed over his chest to make himself look broader.

Kaidan barely suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at the display, “Fisk,” he says curtly.

“Yeah,” the man smiles, straightening up from the wall he’d been leaning against, “Let’s get a drink,” Fisk inclines his head towards the entrance. He goes inside, not waiting for Kaidan to follow, so he’s forced to scramble as smoothly as possible to avoid losing him in the crowd outside of the bar.

The inside is busy and hazy with smoke, but the cool air on his skin is a nice break from the oppressive, wet heat of the outdoors. He blends in easily here in his civilian clothes, and if someone notices the bulk of a gun at his hip, no one says anything. Kaidan lets Fisk lead them to a table in the darkest corner he can find. They sit, and Finch hands him a menu.

“Tell me about him,” Kaidan starts, waving a hand dismissively at the drink list he’s offered. 

Fisk laughs. It’s an ugly, mean sound, “Hold on. Let’s get a drink first,” he waves the waitress over. She looks like everyone here: haggard. She smells like cigarette smoke and her apron is faded and stained. Finch leers at the woman, “Bring us two shots of vodka,” he smiles as she walks away, and turns his attention back to Kaidan, “So, Shepard really bit it, huh? Got himself shot out of a space ship,”

Kaidan swallows the urge to punch him, or to biotically smash him against the nearby wall. His body would make a satisfying crunch, and all the old pictures hung of the bar’s patrons would make nice collateral damage, too. But he already paid Finch, and his officer pay is good, but he’s not willing to piss away 3000 credits and his only connection to Shepard, so he makes himself stay silent, tensing and relaxing his fists rhythmically.

Finch frowns, seemingly frustrated at the fact that his goad didn’t work, “What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Everything,” Kaidan shakes his head.

“There’s not a whole lot to tell,” Finch swallows his shot, “He joined the Tenth Street Reds when he was 16, did jobs with us until he turned 18, then ran off to join the Boy Scouts.”

“What was he like?”

“Angry,” Finch grins, sitting back in his chair.

Kaidan taps his fingers on the table impatiently, “Okay,” he says slowly, “Why did he join the gang in the first place?”

Finch shrugs, “Same reason as everyone else. No credits and no options.” Finch looks towards a corner of the bar and inclines his head, “The two of us came here all the time. Sat right over there,” he chuckles, “That SOB could put away some liquor.”

He believes that much. He used to worry about Shepard’s liver and pancreas. There was more than one night when Shepard lost the battle against insomnia and Kaidan coaxed him back into bed with the promise of a blow job to keep him away from a long slide down the neck of a bottle.

“Did he have friends then? Someone he cared about?”

Finch scoffed, “He was never the warm-fuzzy type. If you’re asking about his sex life, he had a new fling every week,” he grins. It’s a spiteful expression, “You weren’t special.”

Crying in front of this man would be about the worst thing he could do. Kaidan scrubs a hand over his face, “What did he do for you guys?”

Finch shrugs, reaching towards Kaidan’s untouched drink to polish it off, “Red sand smuggling, mostly. And he was the muscle for a lot of our shakedown jobs.”

Kaidan narrows his eyes, “Shakedown?”

“Yeah,” Finch nods, swallowing hard against the drink, “Might not want to ask about the bad ones,” he says, “Might taint your memory of the perfect Commander Shepard.”

Kaidan clenches his fists. He wants to deck that smug son-of-a-bitch. He grits his teeth instead, “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, “Just a few missions, really. Like the one time he beat a turian who wouldn’t pay so bad that he put him in the hospital,”

“That’s bullshit,” Kaidan shakes his head.

“Or the time he crippled one of the younger kids in the gang because he called him a queer,” Finch looks around for the waitress to ask for another drink, “He always was a rabid dog. Just got to point him towards a target and let him loose. That’s why he did so well in the Alliance.”

“You shut your god damn mouth,” he says, louder than he intends to. His finger is pointed towards him, and he doesn’t remember standing up. Behind him, his chair clatters to the floor. Finch doesn’t move, but all the patrons around him are staring.

“What did you want me to tell you?” Finch leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. Kaidan doesn’t know. He honestly doesn’t know what he was expecting, and why he thought this little trip into Shepard’s past would help him at all. He’s in a sinking boat, trying to bail water out before it swallows him up, but the only bucket he’s got is full of holes.

He’s desperately clawing at everything, anything, to get some part of the man back, but there’s nothing there. He gives Finch one last look, wondering if he should say something, but he stays silent and leaves. There’s nothing here for him anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

#### Chapter 6: Before Death, First Time

“Is that an order, Commander?”

“Of course not. I want a lover, not a pet. If you don’t want to be here, go.”

“Oh, I want to be here.”

He was expecting something hard and intense. He expected lip biting, hair pulling: a battle for dominance that he’d only half-heartedly fight before gladly letting the Commander have his wicked way. Instead, Shepard cupped his face with one hand before putting the other on the small of his back and pressing their lips together.

It was a surprisingly tender affair as Shepard ran his hands up and down his back. Kaidan just kind of fell into him, letting himself melt against his solid frame. They’ve kissed a few times by then, but Kaidan still couldn’t get over having the permission to touch him. He ran his hands everywhere, over his pecs, his thick shoulders, his biceps, gripping his forearms.

Strong, sinewy hands worked their way down his back and came to rest just above the swell of his ass. Kaidan grinned against his mouth and pressed their pelvises closer together. The short crop of John’s hair was incredibly soft, and he let himself imagine how it’d feel if it were longer, if he had strands to tangle his fingers in and gain purchase, just like John was doing to him then.

His cock throbbed again as John firmly tilts his head back. He left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses on his way down to the crook of his neck, where he nipped at the skin there. Kaidan should have been upset about the possibility of a hickey—honestly, they’re not 15—but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. As it was, he moaned Shepard’s name as he let his own hands snake around his front to start pulling at Shepard’s belt.

“Impatient, are we?” he murmured against his neck. Kaidan used his free hand to guide him back for another kiss. His first instinct was to reach into his waistband, but instead he pulled Shepard’s tight shirt off. He took a step back, drinking him in as Shepard grinned at him.

His body was a testament to his discipline and commitment. No half measures with him, apparently. Broad shoulders flow into powerful, thick arms. Kaidan’s hands found no give as he runs them over Shepard’s impressive pecs. With his fingers splayed out and pressing firmly, he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Kaidan went further, down over his hard abdominal muscles, which twitched as Shepard exhaled a small chuckle.

He tore his eyes away from his torso to look into those blue eyes. Shepard was watching his hands with rapt attention, his pupils huge and his breathing heavy, lips parted and red from their kissing. He palmed Shepard’s cock through his pants. He squeezed, and Shepard groaned and gripped Kaidan’s shoulders even tighter.

He wanted to suck Shepard’s cock. He kept about the last time, on his knees with Shepard’s fingers tight in his hair, pushing him forward and telling him how good he was, but the Commander had other plans, it seemed. Suddenly he pulled Kaidan into another tight kiss, before pushing him back into the bed.

The sight of him, half-naked and chest heaving, standing over him and seeming to burn for him, is something he’d never forget. If it were anyone else crawling into bed with him, looking like he planned to devour him, Kaidan would be worried. He pulled his own shirt off and watches as John licked a long, wet stripe across the plane of his stomach and curled his fingers into the waistband of his pants, tugging.

It was a bit of an unreal experience to lay in Shepard’s bed—in a bed Captain Anderson slept in not long ago, he tries to forget—as Shepard went down on him. He thrust into Shepard’s tight fist around his cock and into his hot mouth, and he groaned loudly as he felt his tip touch the back of his throat.

Shepard was enthusiastic and his mouth felt incredible. The wet, warm, heat and combined with the surrealness of it all and he felt like the room is spinning around them. Kaidan was groaning, and he was vaguely aware that maybe he should try to keep himself quiet, but he was more concerned about not coming three minutes into a blowjob like a goddamn kid.

Shepard’s short hair was so soft, and he was looking up at him through his heavy lashes with those eyes that were so blue. It was over for him soon—quicker than he’d hoped for—but Shepard was thrusting into his own fist and groaning around his cock, so he couldn’t hold back, either.

Shepard’s mouth still tasted like his come, and his shoulder makes a good, firm pillow. Kaidan fell asleep to the security of Shepard’s arms wrapped tightly around him and the quiet hum of The Normandy’s engine.


	7. Chapter 7

#### Present Day, Spiral

All around him, in every direction, is the vast expanse of space. Stars surround him, and it’s a beautiful, terrifying sight. He gets the feeling that he could run forever and still not hit an end.

He takes a few cautious steps forward. The concept of distance is different here, it seems, because he walks for what seems like ages, but the stars in front of him seem no closer now. The stars don’t move. They’re stationary. It’s like they’ve been there since the beginning of time, and they’ll continue to be long after time has ended.

Walking feels like struggling against the inevitable, like he’s a speck fighting against cosmic winds, so he sits. He sits cross legged on the cold, unmoving floor and just observes. It’s a wonderful sight, and for the first time in a very long time, he feels at peace. He can’t remember what he’s been so distraught about. And how could he be upset, knowing such beauty exists?

Behind one of the stars, in the distance, he sees movement. It reveals itself before blinking in front of the star for a moment and obscuring it. He hates it, hates that something has come to disturb the peace he’s finally found for himself. It’s impossible to place what this disturbance is. He can’t make out the shape, only the distance. It’s far, but it’s getting closer. Why don’t the rules of distance apply to this thing?

Finally, it materializes in front of him. It’s a black cloud of smoke rising and giving shape, the ethereal nature of the smoke becoming something more solid. His heart shatters again as despair envelops him. He remembers what he’s been so upset about.

Shepard’s standing in front of him, his back turned to him. He’s wearing his full armor and helmet and standing perfectly still.

“Shepard,” he whispers, rising to his feet and taking a tentative step forward. He doesn’t respond to his call. He’s standing so still that Kaidan wonders if he might be a statue, but he sees the rise and fall of his chest in time with his breathing, and he hears the whirr of the pneumatics in his suit.

He wants to embrace him, to pull him as tightly against himself as possible and never let him go, to hold both of them here forever, on this mysterious, unknowable plane of existence. He tries, he reaches out a hand to grab his arm, but it swipes impotently at the air. It phases right through the heavy armor on his shoulder, like Shepard’s just light and no mass. He’s just an empty space where a living man should be.

“Shepard,” he says again, louder and more desperately than before. The man just keeps staring, unmoving. Kaidan takes a step forward. He wants to get in front of him, to see his face, but every step is fruitless. He’s anchored in place, unable to get closer. He keeps struggling, swiping at the air fruitlessly, but he can’t find any purchase.

Everything is wrong. None of this feels right. The feeling of peace is quickly replaced with a feeling of doom. The grief returns to him before the memories do. He sits up in his bed, gasping for air and trying to fight away the tendrils of sleep.

His chest is tight, his heart is racing, and tears are streaming down his face. He hasn’t cried like this in months. The wound he’s been carefully tending has been torn open again, and it’s bleeding anew. His hard work of pulling himself back together has been undone over the course of a few hours’ dream.


	8. Chapter 8

#### Before Death, Virmire

After all of the debriefings were done and the reports were filed and the Council was updated, Shepard finally had a chance to breathe. Kaidan wanted to be there for him. Shepard was known for withdrawing into himself and hiding his emotions, and Kaidan wanted a balm to his own conscience.

He made his way to the Captain’s Cabin and knocked. Shepard didn’t tell him to come in, but he didn’t tell him to go away, either, and he suspected that was the best he could hope for. The door was unlocked, so he let himself in. The other man was seated on the couch, his head buried in his hands. He didn’t look up as Kaidan entered.

“Hey, Shepard,” he started, taking a seat gingerly beside him. Shepard was silent, his body still stiff all over, but he started to relax, just a bit, when Kaidan slid an arm around his shoulders.

Shepard turned to him then, his eyes red and desperate, full of unshed tears. Kaidan didn’t let himself think about it, just pulled him close and pressed their mouths together. It was soft, more tentative and unsure than any of their kisses have been, but Shepard clung to him like he was drowning, and he didn’t dare let him go.

After a moment, they pulled apart, but Kaidan left a hand resting on Shepard’s back. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breath was comforting. They’d both seen soldiers die before. Ash wasn’t the first, and she wouldn’t be the last, but it never got easier.

Then there was the nagging element of the whole thing that really weighed on Kaidan’s mind: it should have been him instead. Someone was dead because he was sleeping with his Commanding Officer. It felt like a dirty thought to have, but the truth of it felt damning.

Kaidan sighed and looked at a spot on the floor, “I just—I can’t help but think that Ash only died because of you and me.”

“No,” Shepard said immediately, shaking his head, “You were the obvious choice. You’re a higher-ranking officer, a powerful biotic, a sentinel, and you’re a medic. It was the right call.”

Kaidan wasn’t satisfied with that answer. It didn’t make the gnawing pit of guilt in his stomach any smaller or less painful. It didn’t take the edge off when he imagined Ashley’s family weeping at the news.

“What if the roles were reversed? What if she had been the logical choice? Would you have left me?”

Shepard was silent, but the unspoken answer hung heavily in the air between them.

_I’d never leave you behind, Kaidan._

“ _What-ifs_ are a waste of time,” Shepard stood and started reaching towards a data pad, “We could sit here and talk about _What-if’s_ all day.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan frowned, but nodded. The conversation was clearly over, and Shepard was already busying himself with another packet of information.

The pit in his gut widened.


	9. Chapter 9

#### Present Day, Omega

Afterlife is a terrible, dirty establishment. Everyone here is miserable, and it seems that everyone hates each other, too. His contact was a complete dead end, and Kaidan wonders why Anderson even bothered sending him out to the Terminus Systems in the first place. He’d almost been forced to shoot a few batarians who picked a fight with him on his way into the club. It seems that he exudes _Alliance_ , even in a casual outfit.

The man he’d been sent to talk to was too drunk out of his mind to have anything useful to say, and Kaidan doubts that he’d be much better sober. He’ll never find out, he decides, as he walks away from the man, who is slouched over into the table in a pool of his own puke and cheap drink.

Everything about this place gives him a migraine. The club music is repetitive and too loud, and every flash of the strobe lights goes straight to the center of his head. Omega stinks. The whole station reminds him of the hot little shithole that Shepard grew up in. It’s been a year since he visited now, but the smell of piss and drunk vomit brings the memory crashing back. The thought of the man makes that knot of grief that’s settled into his stomach gnaw at him.

On the dancefloor, a man catches his gaze. The eyes are what draws him in, why he starts snaking his way through the crowd towards him. Even under the poor lighting of the club, Kaidan can see that his eyes are a pale blue. He’s got a thick beard, nothing like the short stubble Shepard kept. His nose is wider and his hair too long, but his cheekbones are strong and the smile that beckons Kaidan closer is warm.

He’s a much better dancer than Shepard, at least. Kaidan’s being pulled along, held close, before he really realizes what’s happening.

“Commander Shepard,” he hears someone nearby say. The name makes his ears hot, as if the universe is shaming him for the fact that he’s still hung up on the man he’d loved and lost two years ago. He looks around for the source of the name. There’s a lone young man at the end of the bar, drunk and rambling to the turian bartender.

“He saved me. Stopped me from getting myself killed by going after Archangel,” he slurs. The bartender looks on in apparent complete disinterest. Kaidan shoves his way through the crowd to get closer as he continues to talk, “I was so pissed at first. He broke my gun,” he sways on his feet, “I spent 300 credits on that thing!”

He taps the young man’s shoulder, “What did you say about Commander Shepard?”

The young blonde man swivels his head towards Kaidan and loses his balance, gripping the bar tighter to keep himself upright, “He saved me! I was going to join a gang of mercs to hunt down Archangel and he stopped me.”

Kaidan squints at him, “Commander Shepard is dead.”

“I heard that, too, but Aria told me he’s alive,” he says excitedly. Kaidan knew the name from all of the Alliance briefings. She’s a rogue agent, and dangerous, and the Alliance wanted him to avoid contact with her as much as possible. Ten seconds ago, he would have agreed, but hearing Shepard’s name changes things.

He pushes past the drunken young man, and back into the sea of bodies. For the second time that night, he finds himself shifting through the crowds in Afterlife. People keep stepping on him, high out of their minds, but he ignores them and keeps trudging forward.

“Watch it,” a krogan grumbles and shoves him as he tries to push past. With his biotics, Kaidan knows that he could wipe the floor with this guy; reduce him to 2000 lbs of meat, but that might mean getting kicked out of Afterlife for causing a scene.

Instead, “Sorry,” he growls back.

The batarian guard at the bottom of the staircase looks unimpressed with him. He’s probably a sweaty wreck, at this point, especially if his physical appearance matches his inward turmoil. "I want to see Aria," he says to the guard.

He laughs, "You and about 30 other people. Shove off."

Kaidan tries to peer around him, "It’ll just take a minute. It's about Commander Shepard."

"She's busy,” he peers down the sights of his rifle, fiddling with it.

Kaidan clinches his fists, struggling to keep the blue glow to his edges in check. All of the emotions from the past two years are threatening to bubble over. If this man is the only thing standing between him and finding out if Shepard’s alive—

The two of them stand there for a long moment, glaring. Kaidan’s not in an Alliance uniform, right now, but he still doesn’t want to pick a fight with someone in a club. Finally, the guard eventually decides the whole thing isn't worth his time. He shrugs and inclines his head towards the staircase. It takes all of his resolve not to bound up them, two at a time. No. If he wants to deal with these people, with _Aria,_ it’s probably wise not to seem too eager.

So up he goes, steadily, and keeping his head high the whole time. One of the vorcha growls at him, baring their teeth. Kaidan's barely gotten to the top when a rifle is stuck in his face, and his biotics flare instinctively. The guard narrows his eyes at him, but doesn't move.

Kaidan’s pulse is pounding so hard in his ears that he almost doesn’t the voice, “Stay still so I can scan you.” Someone pokes him in the back with the business end of a gun, “Hand over that pistol and you’re free to go.”

 _I'm not letting go of my weapons_ , is the first thing that comes to his mind. Shepard would be proud, "Fine," he says, shoving it into his hand. If he wants information, playing by their rules is probably his best bet. It's not like he needs a gun, anyway.

The power-tripping batarian is still standing in front of him, blocking him. He side steps him. Then, he finally lays eyes on her: Aria, reclined into her sofa and looking perfectly bored, while sizing him up with a glance.

"Aria?" His first instinct is to offer to shake her hand, but that’s probably the wrong choice. Plus, he suspects that his palms would be embarrassingly sweaty if he did.

"That’s me,” she says, picking something from under her fingernails.

“Is Commander Shepard still alive?”

“Right to the point. I like it,” She inclines her head towards the sofa next to her. He feels like he’s behind enemy territory, and that letting his guard down is foolish, but he sits, anyway. She continues, “Information is power, Commander Alenko. What can you give me in return?”

“I have credits—”

She scoffs, “I have credits, too. I don’t care about credits.” The thought of exactly what she might ask is scary, but it’s scarier to consider the fact that he’d do it, whatever it was, in a heartbeat.

A lover he’s grieved for two years is being dangled in front of him. He doesn’t want to explore the limits of what he’d be willing to do to get Shepard back. He grits his teeth, “Then what do you want in exchange?”

“Information for information. Why do you want to know about Shepard so badly?”

“We were friends. Brothers,” he lies after a moment. He shifts in his seat. His his training is the only thing keeping him from passing out right now: contract the feet, the calves, the thighs. Force the blood to the brain.

She scoffs, “Please. I’ve seen a grieving lover or two before in my lifetime.”

Kaidan winces. Aria doesn’t miss that, “So you two _were_ lovers? That’s good to know.”

His stomach sinks. He can’t help but feel that he just gave up something important, “Why does that matter?”

“Anyone who’s important enough to be brought back from the dead is powerful. And anyone who’s powerful can be dangerous. I just like to know about the people that might be dangerous to me.”

“ _Brought back from the dead?”_ he repeats.

She’s silent for a moment, considering. Kaidan folds his hands on his lap to still their tremors. Then she says, “Commander Shepard came through here a few days ago recruiting a mercenary hunter and a salarian scientist. Something about an important mission.”

“You—you’re sure it’s him?” He curses himself and blinks against the tears starting to fill his eyes.

“Of course, I’m sure,” she rolls her eyes, “It’s not a clone. It’s not a mask. It’s him.”

Kaidan’s at a loss for words. He’s glad he’s sitting. The world is starting to go a little black around the edges. He squeezes his legs harder.

“But he was dead.”

She rolls her eyes, “I know. You’ll have to ask him the specifics of how that works,” she shifts in her seat and pins him with a gaze, “So, are we done here?”

 _No._ He still has so many questions, but he suspects that her words were more a statement than an actual question, and the guard from earlier is glaring at him again, griping his rifle tighter.

“Thanks,” he stands, but his legs tremble under his weight. His pistol is pressed hastily into his hand and he’s shuffled off towards the staircase.

He feels at a loss. Like he’s been sent spinning all over again. He leans against the wall heavily. His head hurts. He wants to break down sobbing. He wants to be alone. The lights and the sounds of Afterlife are suddenly more than irritating; they’re overwhelming and he feels like he needs to leave _now._

So he does. He shoves his way back through the crowd. The krogan from earlier really does look ready to fight him, now, but Kaidan’s able to slip past him and deep enough into the crowd to avoid a brawl. He finally makes it outside, where the roar of the crowd is quieter and the only part of the music he can make out is the loud thump of the bassline.

Across the sidewalk, there’s a group of humans. One of them is getting sick into the gutter. Kaidan joins them, only because the gutter is the closest socially acceptable place to get sick. The protein bar he choked down earlier is even worse, now.

One of the men slaps him on the back, “Yeah, party on, man”

“Fuck off,” he spits, gripping his knees hard for support. It feels harsh, but on Omega they’re just as likely to rob him blind as not, and he’s not really in any state to defend himself. Fortunately, the group leaves him alone, so he’s just left to stare at his stomach contents and stew in his own thoughts.

Then it occurs to him, and he’s livid. Why the fuck didn’t Shepard contact him? Why did he just let him wallow in his grief for two goddamn years?

His hands tremble as he punches the words into his omni tool.

_Shepard,_

_What the hell? I heard that you’re alive?_

_Contact me back ASAP_

He hopes Shepard’s still using the same address. If not, he’ll be a hell of a lot harder to track down.


	10. Chapter 10

#### Before Death, Saren Defeated

Saren had been dead for two months. The crew of the _Normandy_ had warned the council about the impending Reaper invasion, and the Council, in all of their wisdom, had the most expensive and technologically advanced warship that the Alliance had to offer out searching for pockets of Geth. The whole exercise was a waste of time. It was a way for the Council to save face by pretending to do something while not actually doing anything at all.

It didn’t bother Kaidan as much as it probably should have. It was hard to view something as a waste of time when it meant he got to watch Shepard’s broad shoulders as he stood tall over the CIC. Missions were intermittent, at best, which meant that there were days between the times they’d have to suit up and shoot at Geth.

Shepard kissed him, slow and deep, while the lasts of their orgasms rolled over them like a tide. Kaidan’s legs were wrapped tightly around him, his hands still digging into his shoulders from his climax. They had both been off duty for a while by that point—manipulating the schedules so that the two of them shared downtime was one perk of command that Shepard hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of. Shepard thrusted slowly into him, lazily, enjoying the feeling of fucking his come deeper into the willing body beneath him.

It was a sweet moment when Shepard buried his face into the side of Kaidan’s neck and breathed in. It was one of many they’d been fortunate to share, in the months after Saren’s death. It was hard to care about the fact that the council had sent them on a fool’s errand, since it afforded them both so much free time. Kaidan nipped his ear and he returned to kissing him, slipping his tongue past his lips, grinning when the biotic kneaded his ass.

“Fuck me,” Shepard said into his mouth.

Kaidan smiled, eyes closed and relaxed, “Give me a minute,”

The ship’s alarms sound an instant before they’re both rocked with the impact.

“What the hell?” Kaidan said.

“We’re under attack,” he was up in an instant, ignoring Kaidan’s yelp as he roughly pulled out. He grabbed his clothes, struggling to identify what was his and what belonged to Kaidan in the pile they’d left on the floor. Kaidan didn’t bother wiping the come off himself that ran between his legs. They were both finally dressed, so he pulls him along as they jog towards the door to put on their armor.

It quickly became clear, as they step out of his cabin and climbed down the emergency hatch, that the Normandy was lost.

“I’ll drag Joker’s crippled ass out of here,” Shepard said after pulling on his helmet and grabbing a fire extinguisher, “I need you to get the crew to the escape shuttles,” he tossed Kaidan the extinguisher.

“I’m not leaving you,” Kaidan said, clear and determined.

“Get the hell out of here, Lieutenant,” Shepard said, “That’s an order,”

He hesitated for a long moment. Kaidan couldn’t deny the moral ambiguity in taking orders from someone who’d had his dick in him few minutes ago, but he wasn’t about to tell Shepard that. Not when the ship was on fire.

At the end of the day, Lieutenant Alenko was a good soldier, “Aye, aye.”

Five minutes later, as he listened to Shepard’s breathing go ragged over the comms, he silenced his own microphone so no one else could hear him sobbing.


	11. Chapter 11

#### Epilogue

He doesn’t mind the scars.

The eyes are another story. The cold blue eyes that he’d once gotten lost in were long gone. They’d been “enhanced” with cybernetics, much like the rest of the man. Foreign. Impersonal.

Synthetic.

It’s off-putting, but not off-putting enough to stop him from taking Shepard in his arms the first chance he gets. That’s familiar, at least. The pressure of arms around him. The way his hand always finds the small of Kaidan’s back. The armor that he’s wearing is too thick, but he can almost imagine the pounding of Shepard’s heart through his chest wall.

Shepard’s still the man he loved, and—more importantly—he’s _alive_ now.

But Kaidan’s brain feels like a hurricane rolled through it. Eventually, the anger wins.

“Why didn’t you contact me? Why didn’t you let me know you were alive? How could you put me through that?” Kaidan asks.

Shepard’s response is inadequate, because of course it is. He barely even hears it. Nothing can make up for the hell he went through the past two years. He leaves mad, he walks away from Horizon mad, which is something he never thought he’d do.

Whatever Shepard says is lost on him as he storms away.

He leaves the colony. Files his report to the Alliance. Gets a stiff drink. Then a few more. He’s sitting in front of his terminal, eyes sliding shut and heart still aching, trying to coax the words on his screen into something coherent. Nothing is coherent. The words he said earlier buzz in his head. They seem crueler now than he remembers them coming out.

 _I don’t know who you are anymore, Shepard._ It was an unfair thing to say to someone recently un-dead. Shepard’s probably wondering the same thing.

He let his emotions get the best of him, and he walked away from the love of his life. His conscience won’t let him rest until he sends another message, so he does. He apologizes. He’s never been great with words, but he does a decent job, considering his altered state.

He tries to keep himself from pouring his whole heart into the screen before him, but he can’t help himself at the end.

_When things settle down a little... maybe... I don't know. Just take care._


End file.
